


My mother's day

by vulnerable_bead



Series: From Russia, because of love [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Mother's Day, arrival to Hasetsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulnerable_bead/pseuds/vulnerable_bead
Summary: As luck would have it, Victor and Yuri arrive in Hasetsu on the second Sunday in May. Only Victor is not aware this is Mother's Day.Then he discovers that one more faux pas has been committed and he rushes to correct it.





	My mother's day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joolita](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=joolita).



> This vignette belongs towards the end of Chapter 11 of "Gains and Losses", on the day of Victor and Yuri's arrival to Hasetsu. It is intended to celebrate all mothers who have come to love their children's same-sex partners.

The stay in Tokyo was nice. Victor hadn’t been there before and he was awed. But I could see that he was also tired. The trip to Canada to negotiate his accelerated naturalisation and our final days in Russia have taken their toll on him. He is pale and the fine lines that show at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, the ones that one day will turn into crow’s feet, are ever so slightly deeper. So I am not surprised when after just three days he says, ‘We must come here again. Now… I don’t know about you, but I just want to go home.’

We cut our stay short and go. Home. I notice Victor saying this and I feel touched. He has no family of his own and I can see him cleaving to mine.

It is by sheer coincidence that we arrive in Hasetsu on the second Sunday in May. I would have overlooked the date, but fortunately I am reminded about it by some posters at the station. I pull my suitcase towards the adjacent shopping mall.

‘Let’s buy flowers and chocolates for Mother, shall we?’ I say.

‘Of course,’ answers Victor easily, changing direction.

I could have saved him the embarrassment he is soon to suffer, but, idiot me, I forgot he can’t read kanji.

Our arrival is slightly less expected than it might have been; I notified my family of the change of plans only when we got on the train in Tokyo. In order not to disrupt their day I told them not to meet us at the station; we’d get home by taxi.

Once home, we get shooed into the common room, Father greets us with a quiet ‘ _Okaeri_ ’, Mother explains that dinner will be a little late, because Mari had to go out for some reason, the few guests bow politely, and finally we get a chance to give Mother the bunch of red carnations that we have bought for her, and a huge box of her favourite chocolates (although, truth to tell, she would eat any; she adores chocolate).

As I hand her the chocolates and Victor – flowers, he hears me say, ‘ _Okāsan, arigatō_ ’. He understands this much, so, having kissed her cheeks the Russian way (she got used to him doing this the year he stayed with us), he asks, ‘What did you thank your mother for?’

‘It’s just a customary greeting for Mother’s Day,’ I explain. ‘That’s how you thank your mother for all she is doing for you.’

Victor steps back.

‘What?! But… You’re not saying today’s Mother’s Day?’

‘Of course it is.’ I am puzzled, because he is staring at me, clearly shocked.

‘But… Today?’

‘Yes.’ I can see he is getting upset. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I… I sent your mother flowers on the eighth of March. That’s when we give flowers to mothers. On Women’s Day! I was certain it was so everywhere in the world! I didn’t think to check. Oh!’ he wails. ‘What she must have thought of me!’

Victor labours under the impression that we, the Japanese, are obsessively polite. I don’t know about that, I found the Russians perfectly courteous (with some exceptions) and Victor himself is the epitome of good breeding, but he is convinced we are extremely attentive to etiquette and thus, when in Japan, he minds his manners twice as much. And now he thinks he has made a faux pas and is aghast.

‘I’m sure she didn’t mind,’ I try to soothe him. ‘It’s nice to get flowers without an occasion.’

Only now do I realise how preoccupied I must have been with my own life over the past months. Because when in early March Mother sent me a picture of herself with a splendid bouquet of yellow flowers and a caption ‘Thank you!’, I didn’t even stop to wonder. I certainly hadn’t sent her any flowers, so I just assumed she had attached the photo to her e-mail by mistake – my mum is the best person in the world, but she is not computer savvy – and put it out of my mind. Even the fact that the flowers were mimosas did not alert me, although I had seen these tiny balls of fluff at many a Petersburg florist’s.

Victor won’t be soothed.

‘I didn’t even send a note.’ He hides his face in his hands. ‘Please, apologise for me!’

Mother is looking at us with benevolent incomprehension. Our English is far too fast for her. Father is watching the whole scene from the sidelines. To be frank, I have no idea how much English he understands, he tends to say little even in Japanese, but he seems entertained.

I explain. Mother tells me to tell Victor that she guessed who the flowers were from and to thank him. But if the Katsuki family – minus the absent Mari – thinks that this is the end of the matter, they don’t know the ways of the Russian soul.

‘ _Oy…_ ’ gasps Victor, his eyes growing to the size of saucers. ‘But… Oh, _sumimasen_ , one moment!’

He rushes to the hall, brings back his tablet, switching it on on the way, and begins to type furiously.

Mother’s eyes light up. This is the way they used to communicate when he was living with us; he would copy and paste Japanese words from Wikipedia or a dictionary, adding all the grammar he knew, which was next to nothing, and she had great fun trying to decipher what he had meant. Then she would type English words she knew, adding some Japanese ones in rōmaji, and it was his turn to interpret her message. They got surprisingly fluent at this.

Having finished, Victor shocks us all, the guests including (by nightfall half of Hasetsu will have heard the story); he goes down on his knees, bows deeply, forehead to the floor, our way, and extends his tablet to Mother. She takes it and reads his message.

She looks down at him, obviously surprised.

He takes the tablet from her and types again, his fingers a blur.

She reads.

‘ _Yūri…?_ ’

For a moment I think she is calling me, but no, she keeps looking at Victor and I realise she is not; she is _asking_ about me. She seems a little stunned, which is unusual for her.

Victor confirms with a vigorous nod. I gasp at the recognition: this movement is all me. I feel a very pleasant sensation, a sort of a flutter in my belly. He has learnt a gesture from me! He… I go weak in the knees with joy. He is mine, he is mine, he wants me.

And then, as if this thought had unlocked something in my brain, I figure out what I am seeing. Victor on his knees before my mother? No, he is not apologising for a faux pas.

‘Hi, little brother!’ My sister materialises in the doorway, a prime spot from where to absorb the tableau. ‘Hello, Vikuto… What _is_ he doing?!’

‘Asking Mother for my hand in marriage, it appears,’ I say what has just occurred to me. I honestly don’t know whether to be embarrassed, amused or delighted. I guess I’m all three.

Her jaw drops.

‘You’re kidding!’

‘No.’

She looks at me with a touch of envy. None of her relationships ever got to this point. She is a demanding girl and her boyfriends generally do not last long.

Whereas I settled on the first one that wanted me. Er – sue me?

Victor was right in guessing I did not inform my family of my, well, changed status. But hey, how was I supposed to do it, tell them ‘We’re coming to Japan and oh, by the way, we’re getting married’ over the phone? I thought I’d prepare the ground a bit, explain that gay marriage is allowed in Canada, mention the likelihood of us tying the knot… Only then tell them we were engaged. Yeah. The plan was good, but, as it turns out, I did not allow for one essential fact of life: my Victor is an impulsive person.

Mother types something back. Victor seems to agree emphatically.

She laughs, her peal unrestrained, girlish. A moment later he joins her, a little uncertainly.

Mother makes him rise and hugs him. He embraces her gingerly. He is obviously embarrassed and at the same time elated, the top of her head reaches to the middle of his breastbone, so she is really hugging his stomach, she is plump, he is tall, they look ridiculous together and I find the whole scene absolutely sweet. I would very much like to join in the hug.

Mother, as if reading my thoughts, reaches out to pull me into their embrace.

‘ _Sugoku ureshii_ ,’ she murmurs into my ear.

Then she resolves the issue of Mother’s Day with her usual aplomb. Having hugged us to her heart’s content, she lets us go and, holding us at arm’s length, looks at us sternly.

‘Have two sons, want two Mother’s Days!’ she announces, in English for added emphasis. ‘You,’ she pokes me firmly on the chest with her finger, ‘May. You,’ she pokes Victor, ‘March.’

She wiggles her bottom delightedly and concludes, ‘More chocolates!’

The most tactful of mothers.

**Author's Note:**

> I am obviously unable to say goodbye to this series. I had thought it was complete, but there you are.  
> ***  
> Still, I am already well into the next fic, also set in the "Gains and Losses" universe, so keep your fingers crossed for me.


End file.
